


what remains of our love

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Drama, F/F, Memory Loss, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Chloe spent years waiting for Beca Mitchell. She will continue to do so, even after fate deals them a cruel blow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is not entirely related to my other [amnesia!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206153/chapters/35268371). I was debating posting this, but this is essentially how I would have written /that/ fic if the tables were turned. What would have happened if I decided that Beca would be the one to lose her memory?
> 
> I also feel like my writing style has changed significantly since last year. Other things that have changed: my mental and physical health, and my emotional capacity. So while I don't know if I'll be able to update as frequently as I did for [_remember the day_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206153/chapters/35268371), I promise you that I will try my best.

It’s not that they’ve been fighting _a lot_ , but –

Well.

They’ve been _fighting_ more than usual. And their usual isn’t a lot to begin with.

Beca’s career is demanding, that much Chloe knows. Beca is fairly famous and in the public spotlight enough that it grates on both their personal lives just a little bit. 

Chloe is the opposite of demanding. She’s happy to sit back and let Beca take the reins because with Beca Mitchell, she knows better than to push or Beca will retreat into her head.

Even after years of being together – even just as friends – Chloe knows this much about her fiancée.

So that’s why she lets Beca go off to work distractedly, smiling into the brief kiss Beca presses to her lips. 

She tries not to let it completely destroy her that Beca forgets to say “I love you.”

 

* * *

  
Beca feels the oddest sensation ripple up her back - like she’s forgotten something crucial. She almost twists to face the closed door of the apartment she shares with Chloe.

Instead, she’s distracted by the lingering tingle on her lips and the heaviness of her messenger bag – both reminders that she’s going to be late for her meeting with her manager and publicist if she doesn’t get going.

 

* * *

 

How they get together is almost completely cliché’d in how expected it is.

It’s because of _singing_ , because of course there isn’t enough of it in their lives.

It’s fairly simple: Beca finds inspiration in Chloe Beale, so she writes a song about it. Chloe finds said song and demands an impromptu performance. Beca performs it, grumbling all the way. Chloe cries. Beca cries. They kiss.

The longer story kind of goes like this:

It’s more of a purge of emotion. Beca had grown to finally settle down with her rampant emotions and she let them run free across pages and pages of half-finished songs.

Being Chloe’s roommate was equal parts devastating and enlightening.

Beca never expected Chloe to find the music – it kind of just happened. Chloe had turned to her, holding up sheets of paper.

And her eyes – the way she had _looked_ at Beca such that Beca simply crumbled under the pressure.

(Though, reflecting now, the pressure to–to tell Chloe that she loved her? To finally ensure that her deeply held secret burst out of her in the form of a song?

In short, it had taken minimal convincing on Chloe’s part.)

By the end of the song, Beca had been convinced that Chloe’s eyes were going to dry out by how hard she stared at Beca, unblinking.

“Who…” Chloe had cleared her throat. “Who did you write that for?”

It’s not often that Chloe gives her the reins to go out on any kind of emotional limb, so it throws Beca that Chloe’s choosing _now_ to do this – to ensure that Beca’s blush remains on her face.

But as Beca tilted her head to face Chloe head-on, she had been reminded of all of Chloe’s own vulnerabilities and finds it in her to sympathize. She was kind of reminded of herself in an odd way, like she had been looking in a strange mirror of her own reality. Chloe looked nervous, her fists clenched in her lap, like she was resisting something; resisting from _saying_ something; doing something.

“Chloe,” Beca said softly. “Chloe, it’s – you – you can’t _imagine_ that I’d possibly have feelings for anybody else but you.”

It came out a little more stilted than she would have liked, but Beca prided herself on her honesty, not necessarily how her honesty came out.

Chloe had kissed her first, but they both agreed that Beca was the one who initiated it.

And the rest is history.

 

* * *

  

Chloe receives the call on her lunch break.

She fumbles with her thermos and nearly drops the entire stack of folders she's carrying. 

Holding patients in the palm of her hand while Beca's life essentially hangs in the balance.

She can't even cry until she's in Aubrey's car and even then, only a few tears escape.

She's numb when she hears about the accident. She remains numb.

 

* * *

 

Now, in the hospital, two days later, Chloe isn't sure how the hours or days pass, exactly. Just that they do and she can't keep track anymore. She sits and fiddles absently with her ring, weighing it in her palm. Around her, hushed voices echo, but she can't be bothered to make out what her friends are saying until they address her directly.

“Chloe, you need to get some rest. It’s already been a couple of days and–”

"I don't care," she interrupts, almost on instinct. "If Beca dies, I don't want to live.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Aubrey says immediately, anger coloring her voice. “You know that Beca would literally find a way to smack some sense into you if she could right now.”

Chloe glares hard at her feet, knowing that Aubrey is right as usual. She tries not to let Emily and Amy’s concerned expressions get to her, but it’s making the worst kind of panic rise in her.

It’s all very dramatic and tense, because of course Beca Mitchell somehow gets the last word in and drives the most minor of wedges between Chloe and her best friend.

She’s sure that Beca would be very proud of herself somehow and makes a note to tell her.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe finally says. “I…I shouldn’t have said that. I was…” She swallows, battling back a hasty sob.

"Beca will make it," she hears Aubrey say, somewhat distantly. It floats through her ears slowly like she’s sitting far away. "She’s always been a fighter, especially adept at getting on my nerves."

It’s meant to bring levity and it _does_ , but the memory of everything they’ve been through together – not just as _Beca-and-Chloe_ , but through their entire history makes Chloe burst into tears.

“Jesus, Aubrey,” Amy says faintly. “Ease into it.”

“Chloe,” Emily whispers, like she’s afraid Chloe will break. “Chloe, please stop crying.”

“You can’t just tell her to stop crying,” Amy points out helpfully. Or unhelpfully. Chloe’s never sure.

What she is sure of, however, is that this is probably the strangest group of misfits this hospital’s ever seen, so she lets herself cry at the thought of potentially losing the love of her life while the world crumbles around her.

The one person who could possibly pull her together is in the emergency room (again), fighting for her life and all Chloe wants is to selfishly be there alongside Beca.

All she wants is Beca.

Ultimately, there isn’t much conversation during the remainder of the wait. Chloe notes absently that the walls seem to close in on them. She watches Aubrey fidget; watches Emily’s leg shake; watches Fat Amy flirt with a doctor. All of this seems to happen in slow motion.

Every once in a while Emily nervously asks Chloe one of three questions, the first being “Are you alright, Chloe?” The second, “Do you want a glass of water?” and the third, “Do you want to listen to music?” All with a hopeful, sympathetic smile.

_Beca is dying._

_We haven’t even gotten married yet._

The thought makes her tremble.

_And now we never might._

_That_ thought makes her ache with the most unbearable pain. It starts in her chest and spreads like an icy burn clawing through her veins.

So really, all Chloe can say is “No” to each of those questions.

For once, music doesn’t fill her mind. She’s met with silence where Beca’s voice should be.

 

* * *

 

It is two and a half weeks after the accident. Chloe trudges slowly into Beca’s hospital room, still shaking off the dredges of rain from her clothes – a surprising California rainfall. 

It’s fitting, she thinks.

As per her usual course of action, Chloe slowly ensures Beca’s covers are tucked neatly around her. That Beca’s hands are moisturized. 

(Aubrey quirks her eyebrows at her when she first sees Chloe pull out a bottle of hand lotion out of a massive bag of Beca’s favorite things. 

Chloe shrugs, rubbing her hands together before picking up Beca’s hand to gently rub lotion into the soft skin. “She likes it. _I_ like it.”

She tries to ignore the sympathetic glance.)

Then, Chloe lets her gaze track up slowly to Beca’s face. A few minor cuts have since healed from when Beca was first brought into the hospital. Faint scarring remains, but it’ll fade with time, Chloe knows. 

She’s less concerned about the cosmetics of it all because Beca will always be beautiful to her. A few tiny cuts mean nothing to her. Chloe has had her own share of bruises and cuts. Growing up, her mother always told her that the real healing happened on the inside.

Chloe is so cognizant of that, especially now.

She feels like she’s been rearranged at a visceral, molecular level. From the moment she received the call to now, two and a half weeks later, she has been barely keeping herself afloat. She struggles with what small items to bring from their home to keep at Beca’s bedside. Maybe a trinket or two, she tells herself.

She might have brought a couple pairs of Beca’s headphones. They sit comfortably on Beca’s bedside. Chloe tries not to compare the way the headphone wires look compared to the multitude of other wires and tubes coming out of Beca’s body in a seemingly endless way. 

“I miss you,” Chloe murmurs, finally pulling her usual chair up to Beca’s side. “I mean, I know you’re right here…” she pulls Beca’s hand into her own, marvelling in the solid weight and warmth.

She presses a kiss to Beca’s knuckles, lingering as she contemplates her lover. 

Beca is the same and yet, barely recognizable. She gently plays with Beca's fingers, finding some solace in how easily Beca's hand still slots against her own. She's soothing her own fears in a way, perhaps selfishly, but she hopes that she can convey to Beca how much she loves her and misses her by way of touch. 

She observes things about Beca too, unable to stop herself from looking at Beca now that she has the opportunity.

(She did her best not to blatantly stare at Beca when they weren't dating and had greedily taken every chance she got while they were dating.)

She loves everything about Beca Mitchell and there is something exceptionally peaceful about her in this moment. The smoothness of Beca’s forehead. The lack of a frown. It almost makes Chloe laugh with how much she misses Beca’s trademark petulance. Her general disdain for fame.

“But where are you?” Chloe asks softly, beginning to cry.

If Beca were there, she’d say something along the lines of “I’m right here, dummy” and they’d laugh about it. 

Instead, all Chloe gets is the oppressive silence and stark white walls to keep her company while she waits.

And Beca —

Beca’s there. Kind of.

 _She’s asleep,_ Chloe tells herself. _She’s resting. Just wait._

Chloe waited for Beca for years. She can wait a while longer.

 

* * *

 

When Beca comes to, all she sees is light.

Light everywhere and all around her.

It makes her immediately want to shut her eyes and drift off again, but something tells her drifting off immediately wouldn’t be the best idea. Especially not when it feels like she’s been through hell and back _just_ to wake up.

She was never a morning person.

The second thing she sees is the top of a woman’s head – all unruly red curls and nothing else. It strikes her as odd because she feels like she should know this woman, but she doesn’t. Instead, the strangest hollowness fills her chest, briefly making her forget about the piercing pain in her side.

Like there is something crucial missing.

Something integral.

A series of disjointed notes in place of where a smooth harmony should fit.

The pain comes rushing back all at once, making her jolt.

Two things happen at once: the mysterious stranger sits upright and all Beca can see are endless sky-blue eyes.

_Chloe...Chloe?_

Chloe Beale, sitting by her bedside, holding her hand.

Beca’s confused, if anything. Last she remembers, she was storming away from Chloe and all of the Bellas and leaving them behind–

Second, Beca can do little to contain the scream of pain she lets out when another searing pain floats through her side, drifting up into her head almost lazily in how deeply it assaults her senses. She wrenches her hand away from Chloe so she can raise it to grip her head in agony. The motion itself jostles her entire body, which sets off a chain of events: fire spreads up her side and she figures belatedly that she probably has a broken bone or two. Though the _how_ is murky to her.

_Unbearable._

_Chloe._

The two thoughts war in her mind until she finally sees black again.

 

* * *

 

Chloe blinks awake, wondering if her phone alarm went off. She's typically conscious enough of her phone's alarms and chooses not to set them whenever she visits Beca at the hospital. She realizes then that her phone is completely still and silent and it's Beca's hand squeezing her hand tightly. When she looks up, heart rate increasing, she meets Beca's eyes immediately. Beca, whose body jerks slightly, like she's alarmed by all the tubing around her – all the machines. Beca's eyes latch onto hers in a frantic manner and she whimpers a little in pain.

Beca rips her hand away from Chloe just as a couple nurses rush into the room, drawn by the sound of Beca's machines beeping erratically. Chloe stands shakily. "Beca," she calls softly. "Baby, breathe," she tries.

Beca looks completely out of it. It scares Chloe - the blankness in Beca's eyes. The way Beca is reacting. The way Beca writhes in pain. Chloe inhales sharply, allowing herself to be steered a little further away from Beca's bed.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asks desperately, barely cognizant of the way the attendant’s hands come to grip her upper arms to pull her away from Beca’s side. Panic rises in her, but the more rational side tells her to calm down or Beca won’t get the help she needs.

Help that isn’t Chloe at the moment.

But–

But Beca had been _awake_. Conscious.

Alive.

Chloe had _felt_ the telltale twitch of Beca’s hand. The sudden warmth that had spread through her own body when Beca finally made a sound. The tiniest of grunts, followed by a cough.

Chloe’s body had reacted instinctively, like the first greedy inhale of _home_ after a long time away.

“Please,” she calls out, feeling her voice crack. A nurse guides her just outside the hospital room and the door shuts with the strangest sense of finality. Beca’s scream still rings sharp in her ear, like a cacophony of incomprehensible sound. Chloe finally focuses on the nurse in front of her, trying not to take stock of his sympathetic expression. “What happened?” she asks. “Why – she was just – she’s awake,” she says, unable to articulate any further.

Beca was _awake_.

She tries again. “Can’t I see her?” 

“She’s probably in a lot of pain,” he explains quietly. Like he knows better than Chloe.

(And he probably does, Chloe can concede that. All her education flies out the window. Anything she ever learned about the human brain flies out the window. 

For all intents and purposes, she’s probably useless as a music therapist here. She can't imagine even coming up with a plan. All her calm facades disappear.

It’s irrational, she knows.

Especially now. But somebody knowing Beca better than her is almost laughable. But it’s the reality of this situation and there’s nothing she can do.)

“–shock to her. It’ll be best if we just run some vitals, give her some medication. She’s probably going to be out for a little while more.”

“You’re putting her back under,” Chloe says numbly.

“Not like that,” he assures her. “The painkillers will probably knock her out, but she’ll be up again and I’m sure she’ll be calling for you in no time.”

Chloe tamps down her rising hysterics. “But she was–”

“Ms. Beale, you need to calm down.” He reaches out a hand cautiously. “Can I help you back to the waiting room?”

“No, I –” For one dizzying moment, Chloe imagines what it had been like, thinking she had lost Beca for good.

_The love of her life._

_Her soulmate._

_Her partner._

_Her best friend._

“I’m okay,” she says faintly. She tries to smile at him - this nurse who just wants to do his job in peace - and alleviate the concern in his eyes. “I just need to–” She heaves a breath, feeling the mildest of panic attacks begin. Pain blooms in her chest. As minute as it is, it’s _there_ and she’s so aware of that fact. She can’t even imagine the kind of pain Beca is in. 

“Do you need to sit down?” he asks gently. “Are your friends here? You can wait for Ms. Mitchell with them.”

“No,” Chloe says heavily. “I came alone. I’m alone.” Her words feel thick on her tongue, like she can _taste_ them. When she flicks her tongue out to taste her suddenly dry lips, she tastes salt and realizes she's crying.

She's crying and the one person who learned how to properly wipe away her tears isn't there to hold her.

She has never felt more alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More hospital, more Beca, more Chloe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this ended up coming out a lot faster than i intended because i caught a second wind last night during work and again today during my lunch break. please let me know what you think. i'm going to respond to chapter 1's comments!
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say, big shout-out to [lovelihead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelihead/pseuds/lovelihead) for being the person to inspire this in me months ago. It was a pleasure to briefly headcanon this w/ u...and look where this fic is now!

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks immediately upon seeing a familiar head of blonde curls. “You can’t  _ possibly _ have work-related things to discuss.” 

The disdain seeps into her voice naturally. It’s something that can’t be helped because Beca’s publicist has been an absolute nightmare and has been hellbent on keeping as much of this under wraps as possible.

“Actually, I do,” Valerie says, having the decency to at least look sheepish. “We do  _ kind of _ have to release another statement since she’s awake.”

“We don’t need to do that right now,” Chloe says, brushing past her.

“There are  _ hounds _ out there, Chloe,” Valerie hisses. “We need to throw them a bone so they leave her alone. So they leave  _ you  _ alone.”

“This is none of their business,” Chloe cries, finally whirling on Beca’s publicist. “And you can tell  _ Greg _ ,” she sneers his name. Beca’s manager. “That if he thinks he’s pushing out Beca’s single without her consent, he’s got another thing coming. She doesn’t need  _ more  _ media. Let them beg for scraps. She is  _ my  _ fiancée, not the rest of the world’s.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Beca, your fame could really expand further out if we kind of.” He clasps his hands delicately beneath his chin. “If we...painted the illusion of you being available.” _

_ Chloe would vomit all over him if she could. Where’s Aubrey when she needs her? _

_ “But I’m not…‘available’,” Beca says slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Very obviously not ‘available’,” she repeats, stressing the word with disdain in her tone. _

_ “Just think of the–” _

_ “Please stop insulting my relationship,” Beca says, quieter than before, in a deadly calm tone. “Chloe means the world to me and though this might ‘help’ me as you say, Chloe is the one person I trust more than anybody and I would rather not have you offer me an opportunity to hide my relationship with her when she’s sitting right here.” _

_ Chloe says nothing, knowing that Beca needs this moment - that Beca needs to draw her own strength. Her heart thuds painfully in her chest, wondering whether it was ever an option for Beca. _

_ For Beca to not choose her. _

_ “It’s not an option,” Beca continues, as if reading the depths of Chloe’s thoughts. “Chloe never was just an option for me.”  _

_ In the years Chloe has known Beca, that is as much a declaration of true and unadulterated love from Beca Mitchell. _

_ “I love her and I’m in love with her,” Beca says, powering past his attempts to speak. _

_ And then there’s  _ that  _ – something new for Chloe to get used to. This romantic and unashamed side of Beca Mitchell. Pure and free – just something for her to call her own, just as much as she gives herself entirely to Beca as well. _

 

* * *

 

 

Beca fades in and out of consciousness over the next two days. That alone is more terrifying to Chloe than when Beca had been unconscious for two weeks, or when Beca had woken up with a gasp.

It’s the vacant expression in her eyes whenever they do flutter open. Chloe sees her favorite shade of blue for only a moment before Beca’s heart rate spikes and she’s fading again.

Chloe isn’t sure she has been able to stop crying long enough to let the swelling in her eyes and cheeks go down, so she definitely looks horrific. She refuses to leave Beca’s side for too long a period, determined to be there when she wakes up and is finally coherent enough to speak full sentences.

She misses her voice.

Aubrey brings her files from work along with a couple changes of her clothes. Chloe manages to schedule in a few appointments for the next week, feeling mildly ashamed about how much work she’s been putting off over the past couple of weeks.

She’s gently rubbing her thumb over the back of Beca’s hand and her knuckles while reading through a file - a new potential patient, a ten year old boy with severe anxiety and PTSD - when Beca wakes up.

Chloe feels the change in the room before she realizes what’s happening.

“Beca,” she murmurs, looking up. She quickly flips the manila folder closed and places it on her chair as she stands. “Bec,” she repeats, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re awake,” she says, all while looking straight into Beca’s eyes - sleepy, but alert.

Beca’s jaw works for a few moments and Chloe can see her throat moving. She steps closer to her head, gently smoothing the skin on the back of Beca’s hand. “Take your time,” she reassures. 

Beca blinks through the haze of drugs and pain, trying to focus on Chloe’s voice. It’s Chloe’s voice - that much she knows, even if her brain feels muddled and uncertain. “Water,” she finally manages to rasp. “Please,” she adds as an afterthought. The act of speaking is enough to make her want to close her eyes again, but she forces herself to stay present, mostly curious about the delicate way in which Chloe had been stroking her hand.

“Water,” Chloe repeats. She nods to herself, finally leaving Beca’s side to grab a plastic cup and the pitcher off the trolley in the corner. When she turns back around, Beca is even more alert than before and attempting to sit up. “Hey,” she calls, rushing back over. She quickly places a steadying hand on Beca’s shoulder. “I’m going to call a nurse to help you sit up okay?” She places the cup on Beca’s bedside table before she presses the call button.

Beca looks like she might want to protest. The immediate furrow of her brow is so familiar and comforting that Chloe almost smiles. She would smile if the situation weren’t so dire.

Beca’s eyes remain locked on Chloe even as the nurse bustles around Beca, checking her vitals

Chloe feels so much love and affection in her heart - the familiarity of Beca looking to her as an anchor of support. Chloe clasps her hands together, waiting as patiently as she can. When the nurse reaches for the cup of water, Chloe puts her hand out finally, smiling apologetically. “I can do that,” she says softly. “Can we have some time alone?”

The nurse smiles, recognizing her. “Of course,” he mumbles, nearly bowing out of the room. “I’ll just go get Doctor Gibson.”

Chloe fusses with the edge of Beca’s blanket for a moment and turns to get the water. “Sorry,” she murmurs, apologizing for the wait. “Here, you must be parched.” 

“I...am,” Beca admits, eyes still tracking Chloe’s movements with interest. She lets Chloe tilt some water into her mouth, swallowing with a little difficulty. Chloe waits while Beca adjusts to the cool liquid sliding down her throat. Chloe moves to help her again, but Beca puts a hand out, eyebrows knitting together slightly. “I can – I can do it. Thanks, Chloe,” she says, offering the briefest smile.

There’s something oddly detached about the way Beca says her name. The very barest hint of uncertainty. The way Beca says it with disconnect and unfamiliarity. 

Chloe tries not to dwell, instead choosing to focus on the fact that Beca is awake and speaking to her.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Chloe murmurs, filing the silence while Beca sips at her water. She reaches out, brushing her fingers through Beca’s hair.

Beca jolts as if shocked and nearly spills the cup of water all over herself. “Why–” she hastily puts her cup to the side. “What are you doing?”

Chloe pauses. Her fingers linger for a moment before she processes what Beca just asked.

“What?” she asks, unsure if she heard Beca correctly.

Before Beca can respond, they’re both interrupted by Doctor Gibson entering the room. He looks between them with concern, perhaps sensing the tense atmosphere.

“How are we doing today, Ms. Mitchell?”

Beca blinks, sparing Chloe a second, mildly concerned expression before she tilts her head at the doctor. “Like I just got hit by a truck,” Beca says dryly.

“So you remember what happened,” he notes, not missing a beat.

Chloe figures that by the way Beca’s eyes widen, it’s not quite what she expected. “Was...I?” she asks, glancing at Chloe briefly.

Chloe is still reeling from the shock of Beca denying her touch. She can’t exactly process what Beca is asking her - whether Beca is actually asking her to confirm that she was in fact hit by a truck. She feels her legs tremble a little and wonders if she can just sit–

“You’ve been in and out for almost a month,” the doctor says gently. “I know it’s probably a shock, but –”

“–A month?”

Chloe feels lightheaded.

“Yes, but we’ve been making sure everything’s been going smoothly. Your body needed time to heal after such a serious accident, but we’re going to make sure you’re back to performing on stage in no time.”

Beca glances at Chloe again, this time with worry in her eyes. Chloe feels the worst kind of dread seeping into her body. “We didn’t make it to finals,” she says, finally confirming Chloe’s worst fear.

She can’t even dwell or demand reprieve from the sudden pain that floods through her. She’s not even sure somebody catches her before she hits the ground.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Beca’s not sure what to make of Chloe when she wakes up to her not once, but twice. Perhaps multiple times in between, but most vividly, she recalls seeing Chloe when she had woken up the first time - the startling jolt back to reality. 

Beca thinks that Chloe has always been exceptionally pretty. Beautiful, even. But she let her crush mellow out over the course of her freshman year, thinking it probably was inappropriate to crush on your senior teammate, especially since said teammate would be _ leaving  _ at the end of the year.

Though, perhaps getting hit by a truck makes Beca reconsider that a little bit. She finds herself struck by the most peculiar sense of comfort with Chloe by her side. Like her body responds instinctively and accordingly to Chloe’s presence.

When she fully wakes up a second time, Chloe is still there. Beca blinks awake slowly and finds herself watching Chloe for a few moments as her body wakes up slowly following her mind. She realizes she’s sore all over, her throat is aching, and Chloe is holding her hand while intently reading from a nondescript folder.

 

_ Chloe _ , she wants to call out on instinct. Her throat denies her mind’s request (though she’s still unsure why she’s so drawn to her). So she flexes her fingers instead while she works the muscles in her throat, trying to get some saliva down.

The series of events that follow are exceptionally confusing. The way Chloe pushes her fingers through Beca’s hair in an admittedly comforting gesture.

The way Beca wants to sink into it, but at the same time, she  _ barely  _ knows Chloe.

They’re  _ teammates _ .

This seems to be startling information to Chloe - though Beca does notice that Chloe does look tired. Exhausted, even.

It’s still a shock to everybody in the room when Chloe faints on the spot.

There are more questions than answers and that’s incredibly frustrating to Beca.

She learns that her father had visited earlier during her hospital stay, but he had to return to work.

“Am I not in Atlanta?” she asks, already fearing the answer.

“No, you’re at UCLA Medical Center. I promise we have the strictest patient confidentiality here and that–” 

Beca thinks she  _ must  _ be dreaming. “I’m in California?” Chloe’s reaction makes a bit more sense and yet nothing is completely making sense in her head. “What – what’s the date?”

The nurse looks incredibly concerned. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Mitchell.”

“No, wait–”

Beca slumps, more confused than ever. The door clicks shut and she’s met with silence again. In her hand, a phantom twitch, like she’s expecting somebody there to hold her hand.

 

* * *

 

 

“–dramatic,” Aubrey is muttering. She tilts her head once she sees Chloe blinking up at her tiredly. “Oh, you’re awake. You and Beca are going to be the death of me.”

Chloe barely registers her surroundings before she’s recalling exactly what had happened in Beca’s hospital room.

“How long was I out?” Chloe asks, surprised at Aubrey’s presence. “When did you get here?”

Aubrey sighs. “I got here about an hour ago because they called me, but I haven’t been filled in yet. What happened to you?”

“She doesn’t remember,” Chloe says immediately, ignoring how raspy her voice is. “She doesn’t remember me, Bree. I have – I have to–” she cuts herself off, unable to fully comprehend the seriousness of her own words.

Aubrey pauses from where she’s wiping down the edges of Chloe’s bed. “Who? Beca?”

“Yeah,” Chloe says. She notes that she doesn’t have any IVs in her and moves to push herself out of bed. “I have to see her.” 

“Wait, we should probably–”

“Oh good,” Doctor Gibson says, walking into the room. “You’re awake. I thankfully caught you before you fell. You’re overworked, Ms. Beale. You probably fainted due to exhaustion. Might I sug–” 

Chloe shakes her head. “I need to talk to her.”

He looks bemused if anything, as if he’s not surprised Chloe doesn’t care about her own well-being. “She’s asking for you, actually.” He glances at Aubrey. “Both of you, if Ms. Posen is willing. Though I recommend changing as not to startle her again.” He points at the fact that Chloe is wearing an oversized hospital gown.

Chloe gets changed in record time. She practically pushes Aubrey out of the room so they can follow Beca’s doctor down the hall.

“I’m sure it’s all going to be fine, Chloe,” Aubrey murmurs to her.

Chloe can barely answer because her heart feels like it’s about to jump out of her throat.

_ And if it isn’t? _

On cue, Beca’s doctor turns to face them, just outside Beca’s room. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out, Ms. Mitchell’s memory has been affected by the accident. Over the past couple of hours, we’ve updated her a little bit as to what the situation is exactly. She’s…” he trails off, contemplating his word choice. “She’s taken it fairly well and we’ve actually noted that she remembers odd spots of time, but it seems…” Here, he trails off looking at Chloe directly and apologetically. An expression that Chloe hates immediately. “It does seem that she does not recall anything in recent memory.”

She’s not sure how she can rearrange her life around this, but she’s going to figure it out as long as Beca will have her.

Beca is sitting up in bed when they enter. Her shoulders are hunched slightly while she pores over pamphlets. “Hi,” she greets in a surprisingly shy manner when they both enter. Or perhaps it’s a distinctly uncomfortable manner. “You’re feeling better?” she asks, concerned. It’s directed at Chloe.

“Yeah. I just...tired.” She itches to stand closer to Beca, but something holds her back. Specifically, the memory of Beca recoiling from her touch.

“Hey...Aubrey,” Beca says, her voice tighter, though barely noticeable if Chloe weren’t so attuned to her voice.

“Between you and Chloe, I feel like I have to take out insurance policies for both of you on my dime,” Aubrey jokes.

Beca looks between them, confused. Like hearing Aubrey joke and laugh is foreign to her.

“Chloe, I wanted to...well, I guess I wanted to just…” Beca glances at her hands. “I think I’m a little confused, but I don’t understand why…” Frustration begins to color her tone. “Are you and I…a thing?”

Chloe’s not sure how she looks at that moment, but it’s probably some form of hysterical. She tries to look at Beca deeply, with as much eye contact as she dares, praying for some kind of miracle. Beca stares back at her with nothing more than curiosity and some concern.

So, Beca  _ recognizes  _ her, but not in the way Chloe wants so badly. Not in the way she had grown used to over the years; not the kind of expression she was so used to seeing on Beca’s face, especially when directed at her.

“Beca, please try and remember me,” Chloe asks softly, making silence fall in the room again.

“I do remember you, Chloe,” Beca says after a long moment. “I do,” she promises. “I just…this is a lot of information and I…I don’t feel eighteen, but that’s –” she gestures vaguely. “That’s the last thing I remember with startling clarity. Being eighteen. Maybe little bursts of time that follow, but everything is so confusing.”

The sheer pain and anxiety coloring Beca’s tone makes tears spring up in Chloe’s eyes on instinct.

“So you’ve lost six years of your life,” Chloe clarifies weakly. She wills her tears back, not wanting to collapse emotionally when the rest of her life seems like it’s on the verge of doing the same.

“It’s not that simple,” Gibson says quietly from behind them.

_ So you’ve lost me _ , Chloe wants to say; wants to scream.

"Chloe–” Beca coughs, shaking her head for a moment. “Chloe, we’re – I barely know you.” Beca’s brow furrows as guilt seeps across her face like a shadow. “I…I shouldn’t have snapped at you, though.”

Chloe ignores Dr. Gibson’s hand on her shoulder. “Snapped at me?” she asks, losing some of the feeling in her hands. “You didn’t…You didn’t snap at me–” Shakily, Chloe takes in a breath. “Bec, I–”

“Ms. Beale, may I speak with you privately?” Dr. Gibson finally says, interrupting. Beca looks increasingly worried, probably due to the flush rising up Chloe’s neck and cheeks at an alarming rate. Or maybe due to the way Chloe’s hands are beginning to tremble.

Chloe stares at Beca for a moment longer, tears springing to her eyes. Beca opens her mouth to say something, but Chloe turns on her heel before Beca can do so. “Okay,” she agrees quietly, too shaky to say or do much else.

“Ms. Mitchell is going to be okay,” Dr. Gibson says once the door clicks shut. He leads Chloe down a few paces to a short row of pale blue plastic chairs.

Chloe wants to protest because _ obviously  _ Beca is not okay. She’s the opposite of okay. “How is she okay?” Chloe finally manages to say once her tongue unsticks from the roof of her mouth. The air feels oppressive and dry. She licks her lips to moisten them. “She’s – she doesn’t remember me–”

“She  _ does  _ remember you,” Gibson corrects softly. “Ms. Beale–”

“–Chloe,” she interrupts softly. “Please don’t call me…yeah. Please don’t call me that.”

_ Not when all I’ve been thinking about is becoming Beca’s wife _ .

“Okay Chloe,” he says, smiling at her in a calming manner. “Beca does remember you. She said as much.”

“But it’s…the timing. She doesn’t remember…” Chloe trails off, the thought too painful to completely.

_ She doesn’t remember being in love with me. _

_ She doesn’t remember falling in love with me. _ __

If there’s something that scares Chloe a lot, it’s losing people she cares about. In any form – and especially  _ Beca _ . 

“Amnesia is a tricky thing. Even characterizing this as ‘amnesia’ is tricky,” Doctor Gibson says quietly. “No patient’s case is the same as another.”

“What’s...okay, so what’s going to happen?”

“It’s still so early. Like I said, she remembers odd pockets of time, but just…” He refrains from saying exactly what Beca lost.

What they _ both _ lost.

“We just need to give her time. Make sure everything’s okay physically. And if her memories come back, they come back.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they don’t.”

“Isn’t there – isn’t there a form of therapy to help her with that? Medication? Is - is there a possibility that there’s an injury you overlooked?” Chloe feels desperation rush through her like ice with each option she tosses out. “I can–” she racks her head for whether herself or her coworkers have taken on clients with memory loss. “There’s something,” she says softly. “There has to be.”

“There’s always a possibility to all the above,” Beca’s doctor says kindly. “Though, in terms of injury, I can say that her brain is pretty intact. No intense internal bleeding or extremely concerning areas. This kind of memory loss isn’t necessarily always triggered by physical injury, though it does exacerbate the situation. She went through a pretty traumatic event, so it’s going to take some time to heal mentally and emotionally beyond the physical.”

Chloe remains silent at that. She grapples with her own perceived selfishness - of desperately wanting to take Beca away somewhere quiet so they can live out the rest of their days - and the desire to make Beca whole again.

The two feel oddly distinct and separate, especially now knowing that their story has come to an abrupt pause. Like somebody cutting off a song in the middle of the bridge. Chloe thinks she should know what happens next, but she doesn’t know and can’t say for certain because Beca has her finger on the pulse of their lives together and Chloe’s not sure what’s coming next.

(When Chloe was growing up, her older brother shuttled her around. He never let her control the radio, even when she was finally old enough to sit in the front next to him. He always changed the song, making anxiety build up in her because he would cut her off in the middle of a song.

It’s the same anxiety, but different.)

Gibson’s voice floats in and out of her mind. “I’ll give you a bit of time alone, but I think she’d still really like to talk to you.”

 

* * *

 

When Chloe finds a way to calm down and gather her thoughts, she takes a steadying breath and stands. Doctor Gibson is long gone. He mentioned that Beca would probably still want to talk to her.

So she walks back into the room where her life ended as she knew it.

Beca is awake and talking quietly with Aubrey. Aubrey who looks as uncomfortable as Chloe feels, but still has a steadying hand on Beca’s shoulder like the true friend she had become to Beca.

“I’ll give you guys a moment,” Aubrey murmurs when Chloe shuffles in slowly. She squeezes Chloe’s arm on the way out.

“Can we start over?” Beca asks softly. “That’s why I wanted to see you. I could really use a…” her voice catches as a peculiar flush rises up her cheeks. “A friend.”

She says it with difficulty, like she’s warring with the need to ask for help in any form. Chloe can  _ see  _ how hard this is for Beca, so intimately familiar with all her tells and quirks. But this in particular is a flashback if anything. As much as Beca had said she didn’t  _ feel  _ eighteen – and further, as much as she doesn’t  _ look  _ eighteen – at that moment, all Chloe sees is a memory: a memory of Beca, small and hurt; Beca at her most vulnerable. Beca at her most insecure.

She was never able to deny Beca Mitchell anything, no matter the time or day.

“Of course,” Chloe says softly. “Anything you need.” 

She sees only gratefulness in Beca’s eyes and tries not to let that destroy her completely.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/)!


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